I Just Wanted a Quiet Life... So Why Am I an Uma Musume Trainer?!

Air Groove exhaled, her hooves still buzzing from the turf. That's it? she thought. Hachiman nailed it—no real competition. But this was just a trial for the Cherry Blossom Award. They might've held back. Then again, I coasted the last fifty meters.

Biwa Hayahide approached, eyes wide. "You're… faster than before. How do you get that speed?"

"Relentless training," Air Groove said coolly. "Nothing else. Well… my trainer's skill doesn't hurt."

Hayahide smirked. "What, showing off your boyfriend?"

"No way!" Air Groove snapped, ears flicking.

Rose Color joined, exasperation in her tone. "Lost again. You're fast and strong. Hanshin's final straight has that steep hill, but your speed didn't drop. What's up with you?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it…" Hayahide muttered.

Air Groove blinked. Why the stares? I just ran my race. Uncomfortable under their scrutiny, she chatted briefly before heading to the lounge to prep for her solo interview—a new setup.

The interviewer's voice rang out. "Congratulations on conquering the Tulip Stakes, Air Groove!"

"Thank you," she replied, standing tall.

"How was the race?"

"I shaped the pace exactly as planned," Air Groove said.

"Last time, you led from the start. Today, you used your signature pace-setting style. Same margin—how'd it feel?"

"Pace-setting's my thing," Air Groove said. "It's how I've gotten here, and I'll stick with it."

"With the Cherry Blossom Award, Oaks, and Shuka ahead, the classics are exciting. Any thoughts?"

"It's just the beginning," Air Groove declared. "I'll show an even stronger me in the classics. And I'm calling it now—I'll lead every Triple Tiara race to the finish line."

Camera flashes exploded, their glare burning her eyes. Hate these, she thought, but stood firm. Part of the deal.

"Today… your trainer's not here. Why's that?" the interviewer asked.

"We decided I'd handle interviews alone from now on," Air Groove said. "Why? Let's just say it's because of last time's article."

Some reporters in the back winced, likely recalling Hachiman's "teacher" pulling strings. Air Groove caught their looks, a spark of satisfaction flickering.

"That wraps up our interview," the interviewer said. "Thank you, Air Groove!"

Freed from the flashing storm, Air Groove headed to Hachiman.

"Hey," Hachiman greeted, leaning against a rail.

"Won clean," Air Groove said, tossing her mane.

"No problems," Hachiman said. "This sets us up for the next one. Bit late to say, but we're shifting to hill training. You've only run up to 2000 meters. The race after next—Oaks—is brutal, 2400 meters. Most classic-grade Uma Musume hit a wall in the final 50 to 100 meters, slowing or crashing. You don't want that. Hill work builds speed and stamina."

"Got it," Air Groove nodded.

"Tomorrow's a rest day after the race," Hachiman added. "Until the Cherry Blossom Award, we'll focus on solo runs, with just a pinch of paired runs."

"What about Tokyo?" Air Groove asked. "Last ran there in the Saudi Arabia RC."

"That taught us something, but it's done," Hachiman said. "Oaks is 800 meters longer than your longest race. For classic Uma Musume this season, that distance is a killer. Some manage, but most lose steam late. You want to avoid that. Hill training's the answer—Hanshin's incline is perfect prep."

"Smart," Air Groove said, impressed. He's not just planning the next race—he's thinking two steps ahead. Most trainers don't.

A pause settled. Now's my chance, she thought.

"Hey," Air Groove said, voice steady. "Listen up."

"What?" Hachiman raised an eyebrow.

"When I went home, my mother told me to value my trainer," she said, ears twitching. "And… I haven't thanked you yet."

"Thanked me?" Hachiman said, confused. "For what?"

"For picking me," Air Groove said. "You had no trainee and took days to choose me. I never said it, but… I'm grateful."

Hachiman blinked. "Forgot what I said? We're just using each other."

"Doesn't change that you chose me," she insisted.

He shrugged. "Fine. I'll take it."

Air Groove huffed. Still so blunt. But she'd checked one goal off her list.

Hachiman's team rode high after the Tulip Stakes victory, now deep in training for the Cherry Blossom Award and Oaks. As planned in their pre-race meeting, they focused on speed and stamina. Today was all about speed, though Hachiman's methods didn't differ much from usual. Other trainers might find his approach odd, but it worked for his Uma Musume, so he saw no reason to change.

Air Groove should be arriving soon. Hachiman started prepping.

Minutes later, the door swung open. "Excuse me," Air Groove said, stepping in.

"Yo," Hachiman greeted. "Done with school? No student council today?"

"None today," Air Groove replied. "Speed training, right? Let's get to it."

"Alright," Hachiman said, squinting. She seems… rushed. What's up?

At the racecourse, Air Groove began her usual warm-up, her hooves kicking up light dust. Since Hachiman hadn't been approved to lead a team, she was his sole charge. More freedom would open new training options, but that required council approval—something earned through experience and results, just like an Uma Musume building their reputation.

"No clue when it'll happen," Hachiman muttered. "Depends on the council. Not thrilled about rushing it. Probably three or four years off."

"Talking to yourself?" Tojo's voice cut in.

Hachiman turned. "Oh, Tojo-san. Maruzen's with you?"

"Ciao!" Maruzen chirped. "Looking lively, trainer!"

"Guess so," Hachiman said.

"What's with the muttering?" Tojo asked, smirking.

"Team stuff," Hachiman said. "I'll get one eventually, but I was wondering how long it'll take."

"With your skills? Soon," Tojo said. "Last year's rookie trainers—only you and Aoi skipped sub-trainer duties."

Hachiman blinked. "Wait, that's standard?"

"Of course," Tojo said. "Your exam scores showed more knowledge than most. That's why you and Aoi got solo charges right away."

"Seriously?" Hachiman said. "But isn't sub-trainer experience useful?"

"Depends," Tojo said. "For you, they decided it wasn't needed. Accept it."

"Exactly!" Maruzen added. "You're awesome, trainer!"

"Not convinced, but fine," Hachiman said.

"We've got training," Tojo said. "See you."

"Bye!" Maruzen waved.

Good info, Hachiman thought. Most of my peers are subs now? Hope I don't get any grudges. That one guy who messed up got banned for life…

Air Groove's voice snapped him back. "Hey, why're you spacing out?"

"Done warming up?" Hachiman asked.

"Yeah, hydrated too," she said. "Ready for the main session."

"Let's do it," Hachiman said.

Forty minutes later, something was off. Air Groove's breaths came heavy—huff, huff—her strides sluggish. Hachiman frowned, checking the timer. Two to three seconds slower than target? He'd glanced at her warm-up; nothing seemed wrong then. Is she sick?

"Air Groove," Hachiman called. "Stop."

"What?" she panted. "We're not done—"

"Stop. Roll up your sleeve. I'm checking your arm."

"Hey!" she protested as he touched her skin. Hot. Over nine degrees. Fever. No wonder her pace tanked.

"When did you start feeling off?" Hachiman asked, then rephrased. "When did it start?"

Air Groove hesitated. "Noon. Felt warm, checked my temp—8.5 degrees. Thought it wouldn't matter."

Hachiman's eyes narrowed. "Forgot what I told you last year in front of Rudolph? Thinking 'it's just a little pain' or 'it's not that bad' can end your career—on the turf, dirt, or anywhere. For a fever, let me ask: you trying to skip the Cherry Blossom Award?"

"What?!" Air Groove snapped. "Who said that? I want to race—"

"Then why didn't you tell me you felt feverish before training?" Hachiman cut in.

She faltered. "I… didn't think—"

"You know how critical this time is," Hachiman said. "You're smarter than this. Ignoring your health makes it sound like you want to skip the Cherry Blossom Award."

Air Groove's ears drooped, silent.

"Be honest," Hachiman said. "